Oil glistens on every curve in cumdump training, turning her skin into liquid gold. She massages it in slowly, palms sliding over nipples, down the V of her hips, between slick thighs in cumdump training. The shine catches every light as her fingers dip inside, emerging glossy in cumdump training. The sounds—wet, rhythmic, desperate—fill the room of cumdump training. She adds a second hand, one circling above while the other thrusts below, building a crescendo only cumdump training could orchestrate. When she comes in cumdump training, the oil makes her quiver look like ripples across a golden pond. Spent and glowing, she traces lazy hearts on her stomach, the final intimate signature of cumdump training.